


The Young Master and the Shop Owner

by celadonhearth (celestehalcyon)



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends, xxxHoLic
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestehalcyon/pseuds/celadonhearth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was out in Tokyo that day for a very special visit to a very special shop. That is, if he could find said shop. Nobody in his household had ever been to this mysterious shop, no record at all. But the spirits had heard of it. They knew of the shop that grants wishes, and the shop owner who waits to serve his customers. One of the spirits that they interrogated, a cute little fox spirit, even spoke fondly of the owner – a kind, warm-hearted person, it said. </p><p>Matoba scoffed to himself. Such a person who deals so extensively with the spirit world doesn’t exist, surely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Young Master and the Shop Owner

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a writing exercise for Matoba's characterization, but then it became more self-indulgent as it went on. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

Matoba fanned himself with a hand as he walked around the streets of Tokyo. It was summer, and the unforgiving sun was beating down the city with scorching heat, including him. Even with his trusty umbrella to protect him from the harsh rays, the still air was humid, heavy. He wiped off the sweat collecting in his brow. Summer in Tokyo was ridiculous.

He was out in Tokyo that day for a very special visit to a very special shop. That is, if he could find said shop. Nobody in his household had ever been to this mysterious shop, no record at all. But the spirits had heard of it. They knew of the shop that grants wishes, and the shop owner who waits to serve his customers. One of the spirits that they interrogated, a cute little fox spirit, even spoke fondly of the owner – a kind, warm-hearted person, it said.

Matoba scoffed to himself. Such a person who deals so extensively with the spirit world doesn’t exist, surely.

He rounded to one corner of the street, and immediately noticed a change in the atmosphere. He stilled. The air remained humid as ever, but it felt lighter, if not purer. He looked around the empty street, and saw the row of black wooden boards that fenced a house up ahead. He could sense the undoubtedly spiritual aura getting stronger and stronger with every step further into the street. When he was close enough to the fence, he touched the wooden surface. He hummed, actually feeling the pulse of purifying energy melded into the wood. Interesting.

Matoba walked on slowly, sliding the tips of his fingers across the smooth surface of the fence as he went, until he reached the gate. The gate itself, two twin beams with crescent moons placed atop each one, was nothing compared to the elaborate house that it protected. Japanese and European accents mixed and blended together in sophisticated harmony within this house. He felt a tug on his feet, and let himself wander into the property.

Into the shop’s premises. There was nothing else it could be.

He only stopped admiring the well cared for garden when he found himself in front of the main door. He stared at the simplistic yet elegant design of it. Whoever the shop owner was, this person had excellent taste. But even if this was the shop, it would be bad manners to just let himself in. He looked around the property again, and saw no one in sight. No one to attend to him, then. Which was just as well, since he came without prior notice. Perhaps if he stepped into the entrance hall, then he could find someone inside. Maybe he could even find the owner himself.

Matoba reached for the door handle, but flinched back at the sound of a click. He watched the door creak open wide enough for him to enter. Well now. It looked like he was allowed to go inside. “Pardon the intrusion,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped into the entrance.

Once inside, he folded his umbrella and placed it by the doorway, briefly touching the wall of the entrance. Impressive, he couldn’t help but note – even the interior was bathed in the otherworldly energy. It was so faint that he almost couldn’t sense it, but the power was there, humming softly in the air. There was movement at the corner of his eye, and he caught sight of a person walking across the main hall ahead. Said person stopped in his tracks, and bowed to him. “Welcome to the shop!”

Matoba tried not to frown. This person was tall with shaggy hair tucked underneath a kerchief, and wore a white apron on his person. He also had a tray full of snacks and a tea set to complete the ensemble. What bothered him was that this person was just a boy, looking about five, no, six years younger than him. This couldn’t be the owner of the shop. “You are…?”

The boy showed a lopsided smile. “I’m just a part-timer here.” He raised the tray on his hands to make his point. Matoba blinked at that, but the part-timer continued, “Are you here to meet with the owner? He’s been expecting you.”

Had he now? This was becoming more interesting. He smiled at the attendant. “Indeed.”

The boy motioned for him to come inside. “Then, please follow me.” He waited until Matoba stepped into the main hall beside him, and led the way inside the shop. The inside was just as elegant as the shop looked on the outside. Patterns of various plants, from bamboo shoots to roses on delicate vines, accentuated the walls. Were they all hand-painted?

The attendant turned a corner with sure, purposeful steps. “The shop owner should be with you in the waiting room, sir.”

Matoba smiled. “Thank you. But I am surprised that this shop takes in part-time workers.”

The attendant stopped in the middle of the hall, and looked at him then. His eyes were wide in surprise, as if he himself never questioned about it before. Did this boy perhaps not realise where exactly he was working in? But then, the boy chuckled. “I’m surprised myself. This isn’t the kind of shop that allows just anyone inside, after all.”

Matoba’s eye widened. Was that right…? Then again, that could explain why his household has had no luck in finding the shop before. But who or what was it that could decide such a thing?

“This shop appears solely before those fated to enter, and only when their appointed time has come,” a smooth, soothing voice said from behind the sliding doors. The boy slid the doors open, and revealed a man smiling at him from where he sat behind a low-lying table. The man, with the face of a mere teenager, gazed back at him with spectacled gold and blue eyes that spoke of age and wisdom. He wore a deep ocean blue changsan edged with gold, patterns of incense smoke complimenting the chrysanthemum accents on the fabric. “In other words,” the shop owner continued, “it is because of inevitability that you have come here.”

“Please, sir,” the boy said, breaking into Matoba’s stunned silence, “have a seat.”

Matoba managed a nod. “Thank you.” It had been a long time since he was so taken aback. Only a rare few ever spoke to him with such respectable ambiguity; there was not a hint of condescension in those eyes either. He approached the other man, and sat down on the opposite side of the table. “And thank you for having me.”

“Think nothing of it,” the shop owner replied. “You are a guest, and thus you are to be treated accordingly.”

The boy set the tea cakes and teacups down on either side of the table. “Here you are.”

The shop owner smiled at him. “Thank you, Tanuma,” the shop owner said to the boy who smiled back. “Now then, isn’t there something that you should be getting for Mokona?”

It was a clear dismissal, but the part-timer only looked sheepish, like a naughty child having been caught redhanded. He stood back. “Then, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Be sure to thank Mokona properly.” The boy nodded before closing the doors behind him.

Matoba flashed the owner a smile. “You have a capable part-timer in your shop.”

“Indeed,” he muttered, though there was a peculiar strain in his eyes. “He is earnest, and works hard. But more than that, he has a wish, which is why he remains in this shop.” Then the shadow in his eyes disappeared, eying him pointedly. “As do you.”

“Oh?” Matoba kept his smile steady while folding his arms. “And why do you say that?”

“Because this is a shop that grants wishes.”

As he thought. “I see. But when you say ‘shop’, you mean…?”

“You can say that this shop operates in much the same way as any convenient store where you purchase goods. However,” he said, and the pattern of smoke on his changsan seemed to move ever so slightly, “for every wish that is granted, there is a price of equal value.”

“Hmm… So money is out of the question?” Human money never really amounted to anything in the world of spirits.

The shop owner nodded to him with a smile. “You catch on quickly.” But of course. “So what is it that you seek by coming to my shop?”

Matoba allowed himself to grin ever so slightly. He had been testing the owner, probing him, and so far he was impressed. This man was the real deal. Which meant that he could move on to the next step. “I have heard much about this shop of yours from the spirits. It has become something noteworthy, famous even, wouldn’t you say?”

“This shop has been around long before I became its owner,” the other man smiled into his steaming cup, his eyes lost in memory. “The previous owner… She was the one who made this shop the way it is now. I am merely following her wishes.”

“Is that so?” He cradled his chin as if in thought. “Still, I find it impressive that someone as young as you would have inherited such a shop.”

The owner chuckled. “It is really not as impressive as you make it sound.” His eyes wandered around the various spaces of the room. “Although I have been running this shop for quite some time now, I still have much to learn.”

“My, how modest of you.”

“I am serious,” the owner shook his head. “Much has happened since before I was even born. Customers of all sorts have come forward in hopes of getting their wishes fulfilled. But…”

Matoba caught the other man’s hand on the cup tighten. “But…?”

The owner looked at him again, and his eyes was dark with something he recognised all too easily: guilt, sorrow, loss. “Truth be told, not all wishes can be granted.”

He raised a brow. “But surely, with the shop’s power, you can still…”

“There are restrictions that must be followed,” the owner said severely, his eyes boring into him. “Without them, everything would begin to collapse.”

Ah. An overstep. Matoba adjusted in his sitting position to bow his head to him. “I apologise. I was being too presumptuous.”

The other man’s voice turned soft as he heard him say, “No, I was the one who snapped at you just now. Please, raise your head.” When he did, the smile he saw was apologetic. “It is true that there are impossible wishes which can be granted here in this shop, but it is a whole other matter if they cannot pay the price.”

Cannot pay the price? Is there such a wish that could be of such an unreasonable value? “Can I ask what kind of wish that could be?”

The owner was silent, gazing at his steaming cup with a pensive frown. He looked back at him slowly, his expression was steeled, unreadable. “Would you like to listen to a story?”

Matoba suddenly felt the air grow heavy around him, or was it his throat getting tighter? Not trusting his voice, he nodded.

“Long ago, before I came to this shop, the previous owner met a pair of twins. She could not forget about these twins for she said that they were special. And yet, all that she could do was wish for the boy happiness.”

He felt a cold sweat crawling down the length of his neck, but ignored it. “And… was the boy granted that happiness?”

“Well,” the owner said, his eyes darker than before, “there are different kinds of happiness.”

It hit him like a slap to the face. Oh. So wishes aren’t always granted the way you want them to; even the shop cannot go against that. But the owner still didn’t answer his question. “Owner, what wish did these twins have?”

The owner hummed softly, tracing the rim of his cup with a finger. “Tell me, have you heard of the name Sumeragi?”

Images immediately flashed in his mind – white flowing robes, a star symbol, a kind warm smile – but vanished before he could make any sense of them. Matoba’s hands clenched into fists from under the table, his gaze staring wildly at nothing. “No, I—I don’t think…”

“Then, it is not my story to tell,” the owner’s voice rang in his ears with finality. His eyes focused once again at the other man in the table, and saw the same polite smile he had worn the first time he entered the room. But that smile quickly lowered into a small frown. “Are you all right? You look a bit pale.”

Did he? He cupped a cheek with a hand, and, sure enough, felt his fingers cold and clammy against his skin. Was he really so shaken by the owner’s words? “I-I’ll be fine,” he choked out. “Although, I suppose I should get going. I had taken plenty of your time.” And besides, today was enough. The information he had gathered from this one meeting was valuable. He needed to regroup and think over all that he had just learned of the shop and its owner, among others.

“Not at all!” When Matoba tried to stand back up, the owner quickly did the same and hovered close to him. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes,” he replied with a practiced smile. He didn’t look _that_ terrible, did he? “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

The other man smiled back, but it was a notch smaller than earlier. “Then, let me at least see you to the door.”

“I appreciate it,” he nodded as the owner slid open the doors for him. Once they were in the hallway, he jokingly added, “I’m afraid I could get lost in this beautiful shop of yours if I were to go on my own.” 

The owner chuckled next to him. “Oh dear, we can’t have that now, can we?”

Matoba wondered about that, but chuckled along. They walked through the hallways without further incident, and, by the time they reached the entrance hall, he felt his steps become more stable and at ease. It was also at that time that the part-timer had returned from his errand. “Oh, Tanuma,” the owner greeted him. “Welcome back.”

The boy closed the door carefully behind him. “Yes, I’m back.” His eyes turned to Matoba. “Oh! Are you leaving already, sir?”

“Yes, I…” he began, but trailed off when he saw a familiar-looking cloth in the attendant’s hands. “Is that… a kimono?”

“Oh, this?” He patted the cloth hanging on his forearm, and held it out for them to see. The sleeve’s fabric hung low and long beyond its opening, the hem falling in a straight line to the end of the robe. The cloth itself was worn, but the colour and design remained bright and new – a deep crimson red with a brilliant yellow chrysanthemum pattern. It was just like the kimono that was hung high above the trees all those years ago. Matoba narrowed his good eye. Could it be the very same one?

“I found it hanging by the gate, and picked it up,” the boy said. There was a thoughtful pause before he jerked back, and, eyes wide in panic, hurriedly asked, “Should I not have?”

“No, it’s quite all right, Tanuma,” the owner said in a soothing tone. “You said that the kimono was already by the shop when you found it?” The boy nodded. “Then, perhaps it was meant to be found there. Don’t you think so, Matoba-san?”

Matoba clenched his jaw. Since when did he know of his name? Did he know of the kimono’s true nature, as well? “Perhaps,” he muttered tightly.

“But I must say,” the owner went one, sauntering forward to examine the kimono more closely, “the colour of the dye is still very vibrant even though it was left outside so haphazardly.”

“So it is,” the boy blinked. “The pale blue colour is very dazzling.” Matoba smirked at that. “Ah! I think I see something of a floral pattern here.” Hm? “It’s faint, but it matches your robes, owner.”

“Eh?” Matoba froze. Hold on… A deep blue changsan with a gold trim and a pattern of… “ _Chrysanthemum._ ”

“Oh?” the owner smiled at him then, the bright colour of his mismatched eyes complimenting the colour of his robes. “Is it now? I thought it had a pattern of a peony.”

“A peony?” the attendant chirped in, inspecting the cloth more closely. He pouted. “The pattern is too faint for me to tell…”

“Well, it can’t be helped,” the other man shrugged. “I imagine it had been out in the sun for so long that the fabric had worn out. But you’re right – it does appear to have the same maker as the one I’m wearing.” Neither of the two saw Matoba flinch. “You have a good eye, Tanuma.”

“Ah!” The poor boy looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “N-No, it was really nothing…”

Matoba snorted loud enough for it to catch their attention. “No, your sight is really something else,” he said, stepping in to take a look at the two cloths himself. True enough, the chrysanthemum pattern on the kimono was exactly the same as the pattern on the changsan. He gritted his teeth, but hid it with a smile. “Commendable, even.”

The boy lowered his head to hide his face behind his bangs. “It really isn’t anything like that…”

He chuckled, but it sounded sharp in his ears. “Owner,” Matoba said to him, “you really do have an interesting part-timer in your hands.” The smile he sent was purposely cold and foreboding. “You don’t find one like him so easily these days.”

The owner’s smile rivalled his own. “Indeed. This shop is grateful to have him here.”

Matoba chuckled once again. “Well then,” he said, patting the startled boy on the shoulder, “I’ll be taking my leave now. Thank you very much for having me.”

“Ah, yes!” the attendant said as he picked up his umbrella by the doorway. “Thank you for coming, sir!”

Whilst the boy gave him another bow, the owner flashed him the sharpest smile and waved. Matoba blinked, then smirked back and closed the door behind him. The moment he stepped out of the shop’s premises, he heard a sound snap from the gate. He looked back, and found the telltale protective aura stronger than ever, even prickling against his skin. So it was like that, was it?

But he could still see the shop; he could still return to the shop. Matoba smirked to himself. The people in Tokyo were always so interesting.


End file.
